


Millennia

by Wxlves



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Aedion settles, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25203049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wxlves/pseuds/Wxlves
Summary: “Your father’s blood ran true,” she said, answering his unasked question. “You bear the same power as the Queen, undiluted by your human mother.”One last gift from his father, and Aedion couldn’t even stand it. This confirmation… the knowledge of all the years now spread before him… it was staggering.
Relationships: Aedion Ashryver/Lysandra
Comments: 5
Kudos: 28





	Millennia

**Author's Note:**

> Me, starting a 1 or 2k word drabble: okay this is good
> 
> Me, 5k words later: god damn it

Aedion was halfway through breakfast when a sudden, searing pain shot through him. It was like hot coals had been poured down his throat, turning his stomach into a mess of liquid fire. He couldn’t hear, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, his vision narrowing into a pinprick of light with vague, fuzzy blobs replacing the people around him.

Just as he thought he might pass out, the pain was gone. Within the span of a second it dissipated and he was left with a trickle of sweat down his temple and lungs that couldn’t seem to get enough air.

Sharp metal pricked his palm. The fork he’d held, twisted into an unrecognizable shape in his fist.

“Aedion?”

He glanced up slowly, blinking away the spots of light in his vision, to find Lysandra watching him from across the table. “Are you alright?” Rowan, several seats down, also watched him intently, dark green eyes narrowed. Thankfully, none of the other members of Aelin’s court were awake yet to witness this… incident.

Lysandra… she had asked him a question… 

Through the lingering haze in his brain Aedion nodded. “I just— a headache, that’s all. Excuse me.” With the scrape of wood on stone he stood, slipping the mangled silverware into his sleeve to hide it as he nodded to Rowan and gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile to Lysandra.

As he slipped from the dining hall he heard Lysandra move to follow him, then Rowan’s low voice murmuring something too quiet for his Fae ears to pick up.

Returning to his rooms, he leaned over the wooden desk to peer at his reflection in the mirror. Aedion’s hands shook badly enough that he knocked over a small vial of oils sitting there, one of Lysandra’s. Righting it, he planted his hands on the desk and took several deep breaths. His reflection, pale and slightly disheveled looking, copied the movement.

_ What in Hellas’ name was  _ that? He had old wounds that occasionally twinged with pain but nothing,  _ nothing _ compared to the agony he had just experienced.

Distracted, Lysandra’s voice startled him out of his thoughts. He hadn’t even heard their door creak open. “Are you okay, Aedion?”

He heaved a sigh, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “Yeah, I’m fine, I just got a sudden headache. It’s starting to fade already.”

Lysandra’s eyes narrowed slightly as she said, “for someone whose life depended on deception for nearly a decade, you’re a horrible liar.”

He shot her a rueful smile. “Lys, please don’t worry about me.” He dipped his head to meet her eyes, trying to convey sincerity in his tone, but she seemed unconvinced.

“Of course I worry, Aedion, just as I know you won’t stop worrying about me.” She stepped towards him, taking one of his hands in both of hers. “You’re working too hard. I know you feel like you owe it to Aelin, to this country, but you’ve sacrificed so much already. Some days off here and there won’t kill you.”

She was right, though Aedion doubted that pain was only from stress. “I have a meeting with Darrow I need to get to now,” he murmured, chuckling at the face Lysandra pulled. “Trust me, that’s how I feel about him too. But he’s been a driving force for Terrassen since that night Adarlan swept through.”

“Except for the time he tried to keep Aelin from her throne.” Lysandra’s nose wrinkled in disgust, and he could have sworn sharp canines flashed slightly behind the curl of her lip.

Aedion only leaned down for a brief kiss and replied, “I’ll take the day off tomorrow, if you can spare time from your schedule too. We’ll spend some real time together.”

Nodding, she smiled up at him, though worry still shadowed her eyes. “Sounds good, General.”

“My Lady.” He bowed low, mocking, laughing when Lysandra sent him a vulgar gesture.

~

Weeks passed; enough time that Aedion almost forgot about the strange incident, writing it off as a one-time occurrence. Until one night when he jolted awake to the same burning pain, this time settling in his head as well as his stomach.

It felt as though someone had driven a red-hot knife through his eye socket. His hands twisted into the sheets, every muscle in his body coiled like an asp about to strike. Dimly, he could feel Lysandra’s hand on his shoulder, but the touch barely registered in his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain, trying to breath in through his nose and out through his mouth until finally it subsided, gone over the course of a few seconds.

“Aedion!”

Lysandra gripped his chin tight, turning his head towards her. “Can you hear me?”

He swallowed around the dryness in his throat. “Yeah. Yeah, I can hear you. What time is it?”

“It’s a few minutes past midnight. Do you need to see someone? A healer?”

“No,” he breathed, letting himself fall back against the pillows. “I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie to me, Aedion, you’re far from fine.” Maybe it was the late hour, but a disgruntled tone had snuck under the concern in Lysandra’s voice. 

It was only when she brushed a thumb over his cheekbone that he realized there were tears there. “What just happened?”

“It was just a bad dream, Lys. You can go back to sleep.”

“The hell I will, you were shaking so hard I thought you’d carry yourself straight off the bed. That wasn’t ‘just a bad dream.’ ”

Resting a hand on the back of her neck, he let his thumb gently stroke up and down, comforting. “I promise I’ll be alright. It’s late, we can talk more in the morning.”

Lysandra only pulled back with a scowl that was barely visible in the moonlight. “I thought we were beyond this, Aedion.”

“Beyond what?”

“The half-truths and secrets. With you, it’s always been honesty, from the first moment I met you. Even when we fight, we’re honest with each other, maybe a little too much.”

“Lys, I—”

Aedion was interrupted by a soft flash of light. The woman in his bed became a quarter-ton ghost leopard who promptly slunk to the foot of the bed and curled up tight, back to him.

Message received.

Aedion knew he deserved this too, knew he wasn’t being truthful, but when he had no idea what was causing these sudden bouts of agony, he didn’t want to worry her. If he could learn the cause, have  _ some  _ idea about what was going on, then he’d feel less like he was placing an unneeded burden on her shoulders.

The sunrise next morning found him in the Royal Library among the towering stacks of books. He started with an ancient medical tome, skimming through for anything that might help with what he’d felt.

Nothing.

Three scrolls unearthed from the depths of the library.

Nothing.

He was just pulling another thick, leather-bound book towards himself when a plate was dropped in front of him with a loud clatter.

“You missed breakfast,” Lysandra said. She was frowning, evidently still annoyed despite the peace offering she had brought.

“The scholars don’t like food in here,” he replied with a small smile.

“What are they going to do about it,” she countered, raising one brow. “Are you really scared to incur the wrath of these hunched old women?”

Scoffing, Aedion took the plate, digging into the eggs with fervor. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until the smell of the food hit his nose. Lysandra let him finish his food in silence before leaning across the table towards him, her face grave.

“I want to know what happened last night. No half-truths, no lies, no skirting around the subject. I’m assuming it has something to do with this.” She nodded at the books strewn around them.

Lysandra’s gaze didn’t waver as she stared Aedion down. He relented quickly, too tired to bother with a battle of wills. “It was this sudden, excruciating pain. It was in my head, my chest, my stomach — unlike anything I’ve felt before.”

Her brows furrowed, worry filling her eyes. “And this is something new? Not ongoing?”

“It’s happened once before, a few weeks ago,” Aedion admitted, suddenly finding the tabletop  _ very  _ interesting.

“That day at breakfast.” It wasn’t a question, but he nodded anyway. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me then?”

He had an answer, but it was one he suspected Lysandra wouldn’t like — instead, he shrugged in response. This earned him an exasperated eye roll which was, admittedly, well-deserved.

The sound of shoes on stone caught Aedion’s ear and he turned to find a wizened old woman standing only a few feet away, frowning at the empty plate on the table. He sent her a winning grin which only earned him a stony look in return before she shuffled away. Lysandra’s lips were pressed into a thin line as she tried to hide her smile.

Clearing her throat, her expression sobered as her attention returned to Aedion. “Go see a healer about this, you can’t just suffer forever.”

“The healers are Aelin’s eyes and ears, along with any other castle staff. I don’t need this getting back to her.”

“Maybe it should, Aedion. As your cousin, your queen, and your employer she has every right to know.”

He leaned in slightly, stone-faced. “I don’t want anyone else knowing about this until  _ I _ know why it’s happening. I don’t need everyone worrying.”

True to form, Lysandra didn’t back down. “You’ll go to your grave before you ask another person for help, won’t you? This court loves you, Aedion, and we  _ do  _ worry about you whether you try and spare us or not.”

“If one word of this gets back to Aelin, Whitehorn, anybody—”

“That better not be a threat I’m hearing.” She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. Voice softening, she said, “Look, Yrene and Chaol are going to be here for a few weeks, they should arrive the day after tomorrow. Talk to Yrene, you can get whatever vows of silence you like out of her, and she’ll have a better chance at helping you than the castle healers.”

Aedion felt his anger cooling, replaced with shame at his outburst. “I’ll talk to Yrene, I promise. And I swear I wasn’t threatening you.”

“I know you weren’t. You’re smarter than that, you temperamental Fae bastard.”

Aedion’s lips twitched upwards. “I believe the expression is  _ territorial _ Fae bastard.”

“Am I wrong, though?” Her soft laugh took the sting out of the words. “I know you mean no harm, you’re just like Aelin. I’m almost inclined to believe that gift of fire comes from the Ashryver line, if your tempers are any indication.”

“Similar we may be, but I’m still the more attractive cousin…”

Lysandra gave him an appraising look up and down, as though considering, before she conceded with a nod. “I’ll give you that one, Aedion.”

~

“Eat this.”

Aedion’s nose wrinkled at the pungent smell of the herbs Yrene held out to him.

“That smells like it was down Erawan’s pants for the centuries he slept.”

“Don’t be vulgar,” she scolded. “It’s not that bad. If you can stare down armies of darkness you can put the smelly plants in your mouth.” He scowled at her teasing tone but followed orders, resisting the urge to gag. “Those will help my magic through your body and make any diseases or wounds — really anything that might kill you — easier to find,” she explained, adding, “since I’m guessing you were about to ask.”

“I was,” Aedion admitted. When she pushed a hand to his chest he took the cue to lie down, watching out of the corner of his eye as her hands began to glow softly. He’d seen her at work before, healing his men, but he’d never experienced it himself.

Everywhere that golden light touched felt warm, bordering on hot. Like Aelin was dragging her fire-brand fingers across his body… a mental image disturbing enough that he shut it out from his mind.

It only took minutes for Yrene to pull back, shaking her head. The golden glow dimmed. “There’s nothing wrong.”

Aedion propped himself up on his elbows and frowned. “Nothing?”

“I sense no illness, no physical wounds, not even a hint of the kind of darkness that destroyed Chaol’s spine. Nothing.

Aedion wasn’t sure if the news was reassuring or very, very worrying. Either way, he allowed a mask of calm to slip over his face as he smiled at Yrene. “Thank you anyway, Miss Towers.”

She scoffed at the title. “Yrene works just fine,  _ General Ashryver.” _

He dipped his head in acknowledgment, chuckling, and slipped from the small healer’s room she had commandeered for the day.

“Oh, Aedion?” He turned at his name, waiting expectantly. “May I ask why you requested my discretion?”

“I want to keep this under wraps until I know what’s happening to me. Everyone has too much on their plate already.”

Yrene’s brow furrowed at that answer but before Aedion could ask why, she turned away, busying herself. Aedion took it as a quiet dismissal and left.

~

Weeks passed and the strange bouts of agony began occurring more frequently. Thankfully, they were no more severe, Aedion wasn’t sure he could physically take more pain than that.

He was exhausted. The past three nights in a row had found him awake, panting through clenched teeth as he fought down the nausea that accompanied each wave of pain. The third night he waited until Lysandra fell asleep before slipping out of bed onto the floor, his guilt about waking her overriding the discomfort of the stone.

She still woke when he did, and then he was on the receiving end of her outrage as she snarled at him about “not being a stubborn fool,” and that “sleeping on the ground wasn’t going to help matters in the slightest.”

Lysandra was right, of course.

She joked about these strange pains being like pregnancy contractions, slowly getting closer together. “Once they’re five minutes apart we can call the midwife,” she had said, laughing, but Aedion knew the toll worry was taking on her.

To her credit, she kept her promise of secrecy until the fourth night in a row when, after making sure Aedion was okay, she stormed from the room.

The last person Aedion might have suspected followed her back into their room minutes later. Fenrys.

He almost snarled at the male to get the fuck out when Fenrys said, blunt as ever, “I know what’s happening to you.”

Aedion gave Lysandra a betrayed look. She shrugged in return. “I figured someone old as hell would be more likely to know what’s going on, but Rowan would never keep anything from Aelin. Hence, this man… male.”

“First of all, boyo, you’re ridiculous to have hidden this for so long. You’re fortunate it’s nothing dangerous.” 

“So I’m not dying.”

“Quite the opposite, I’m afraid.”

Aedion’s heart left his chest. “You mean—”

“You’re settling. That pain you feel is your body’s aging reordering itself, literally halting what should be a normal human process. It’s that human half of you causing such intense pain, worse than what I ever felt because that half is resisting, it  _ wants  _ to age while your father’s blood says  _ no.” _

Aedion’s head was swimming, and from where she stood next to Fenrys, Lysandra looked like she’d stopped breathing.

_ Settling _ .

This changed nothing.

It changed everything.

He ignored the pity in Fenrys’ eyes. “Will I age like you? Like Aelin?”

Would he look the same in a millennia as he did right at this moment? The thought was incomprehensible.

Fenrys sounded like he was straining to keep his voice even. “You might age slowly, more gracefully than the average human, or you could turn out like me or Whitehorn or the Queen. No Fae is truly immortal — but so long-lived that the term is a matter of semantics.”

Since when had the floor been spinning like this? The walls blurred together as the earth tilted under his feet. Aedion squeezed his eyes shut, trying to inhale through his nose and exhale out his mouth.

“I think you should go,” he said in Fenrys’ general direction, eyes still closed.

He heard the male make a hasty retreat before he was able to open his eyes. He found Lysandra kneeling before him (when had he dropped to his knees?) still in her nightgown, the shafts of moonlight streaming through the window turning her hair silver.

Aedion could feel the trembling in her hands as she ran them through his hair. She leaned close, close enough to share body heat. Neither of them said a word for a long, long time.

Pressing her hand to the Terrassen knot tattooed over Aedion’s heart, Lysandra finally spoke. “You’ll not lack for company in your centuries ahead.”

He knew she spoke of Rowan and Aelin’s names, curling around the bottom left and right of the tattoo. Her own was there, too, following a curling line towards the center of the knot.

Detached. He felt detached from his own body. He reached for Lysandra’s hands, took them into his own; so slender and pale compared to his, calloused and scarred from years of fighting. Hers would become wrinkled and webbed with veins while his looked much the same.

He didn’t realize he was crying until Lysandra brushed the tears away, gently. “Aedion, you’ve been given a gift.”

He lifted his head to meet her eyes. He knew his own were hollow as he said, “then why doesn’t it feel like it?”

She shook her head firmly. “No. You won’t mourn me before I’m even dead.” She brushed one finger over the gold band on his finger, her own catching the moonlight as she moved.

“I love you.” A quiet murmur, but he still heard her clearly, still saw the silver lining her eyes as she watched him closely. 

Aedion didn’t respond, instead leaning in for a kiss. His mouth left hers after a moment, finding the corner of her jaw, her neck, her collarbone.

A distraction. What he needed, what they both needed. “We can talk in the morning,” he said against her skin as Lys’ head dropped back to expose more of her neck.

“In the morning,” she agreed, breathless. In a swift movement he picked her up and strode to their bed.

Aedion moved down her body, slowly sliding her nightgown up her legs, above her hips. He glanced up at her in silent question and she nodded. “Please,” she added, when he didn’t move. That was all he needed, bracing his hands on her hips, his mouth between her thighs.

And the taste of her on his tongue, the feeling of her hands in his hair, was certainly distraction enough.

~

Aedion awoke with the sun to find Lysandra already awake, her eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“Lys,” he rasped, voice full of sleep.

She turned to him and smiled. “Good morning. I should start out by saying as much as I enjoyed last night, we can’t just fuck any time there’s something we don’t want to talk about.”

“It’s unhealthy,” he agreed, “but I can’t do this on an empty stomach. Breakfast?”

Rolling her eyes, Lysandra muttered something about Fae appetites but slipped from the bed and padded over to the wardrobe.

For privacy, they grabbed food from the kitchens and took it with them to the gardens, finding a low wooden bench that creaked dangerously under Aedion’s considerable weight.

The morning was still cool, a soft breeze brushing Aedion’s face and stirring the long strands of Lysandra’s hair.

“This isn’t something you can keep from the others,” Lysandra said after a long silence.

Aedion nodded. “I know, but I still need to process… everything. I’m not sure I can have that conversation yet.”

Shaking her head, Lysandra let out a low whistle. “I can’t imagine what this is like for you, such sudden change.”

He turned to look at her, at those green eyes that held his own with an unrivaled intensity. “For you, too,” he said.

“Well,” she chuckled, “knowing you’ll look this good for the rest of my life isn’t what I would call a hardship.” Her voice became more serious, even as Aedion snorted in amusement. “This doesn’t change anything for me, Aedion. I still want you in every way possible.”

There was a fear in her eyes, an uncertainty that maybe, with this newfound eternity, Aedion wouldn’t need the mortal shifter with the healing heart. Aedion read that fear in her eyes and  _ hated _ it.

“I will love you, Lys, until the stars fade from the night sky. Immortality is a cruel jape from the gods without you to share in it.”

His finger traced her cheek, traced the line of her jaw, his thumb and forefinger settling into a gentle grip on her chin so she couldn’t look away, couldn’t miss the sincerity in his eyes at those words. And when her lower lip trembled, tears filling her eyes, he pulled her against his chest as though he could keep her safe from time’s passage, secure in his arms.

~

Yrene was the first person Aedion properly told about the immortality, because she was one of the few who had known anything was wrong in the first place.

When he told her, excitement flickered across her face for the barest moment, gone as soon as she read the anguish on his.

“You don’t wish for immortality? You could hardly ask for better company, and Terrassen would certainly not suffer for it.”

“Maybe it makes me selfish, but I couldn’t bear eternity without the woman I love.”

Understanding filled Yrene’s dark eyes. She had, Aedion knew, almost lost Chaol, almost faced the prospect of life without her husband. “I can look for you,” she offered, “see if you will live for millennia or only age gracefully, as Fenrys put it. I can see that spark of power that fuels the Fae’s long lives.”

Aedion nodded, mute.

She had no herbs this time, and he remained standing where he was while golden tendrils of light curled around him. After a long moment he opened his eyes to find the light gone. Yrene was watching him carefully. “Your father’s blood ran true,” she said, answering his unasked question. “You bear the same power as the Queen, undiluted by your human mother.”

One last gift from his father, and Aedion couldn’t even stand it. This confirmation… the knowledge of all the years now spread before him… it was staggering.

Though she stood over a head below Aedion, she still reached up to cup his cheek in a comforting gesture. He smiled sadly. “You leave tomorrow, right?”

She hummed thoughtfully. “I think we’ll delay leaving for another few days. Come back here to the healers’ rooms tomorrow and we’ll talk again.”

Aedion’s brows furrowed. “About what?”

Hesitancy lined her face, the set of her mouth. “Possibly nothing,” she said, and Aedion realized he wouldn’t get an answer out of her. “Now shoo, I have business to attend to.”

He bowed slightly and backed out of the room, more confused than anything.

~

When Aedion returned the next day, late in the afternoon, he could see a change in Yrene. She was nervous. Despite her cool exterior her heartbeat was fast, her fingers tapping quickly on her thigh.

“Yrene, what’s wrong?”

Her eyes darted to him as though she was surprised to see him, no matter that he was far from unnoticeable.

“Nothing’s wrong, Aedion, but thank you. I didn’t want to mention this yesterday, didn’t want to get your hopes up.”

Aedion’s focus narrowed to Yrene’s face, the words she was saying. “About what?” He knew the kind of deadly calm in his voice, knew how it made him seem predatory, frightening. He also couldn’t be bothered to soften his tone.

“I wanted to send word to Antica, to hear it from the mouths of healers far older and wiser than me before I told you anything. There may be a way to take your immortality, make you mortal once again.”

Aedion didn’t breathe, didn’t blink, didn’t move. What Yrene offered—

“It’s not a simple matter, though. You have to know this. For one thing, it’s only been done a few times, and even then, they were full-blooded Fae. It’s impossible to know if being human would help you through the process, or if, being the physically weaker part, it would kill you.

“Not only that, but I cannot guarantee it being a pleasant process; my powers are for healing, not taking away life.”

“But you don’t know that it would kill me.”

“Even if it doesn’t kill you, there’s still centuries of life that I am indeed taking away. This isn’t a simple matter, and your decision cannot be made in haste.”

_ Not a simple matter  _ was an understatement. Aedion’s mind was reeling with the possibilities, the repercussions. He barely managed a polite goodbye to Yrene before exiting the healer’s room as quickly as his dignity would allow.

~

Aedion intended to brood in solitude but Lysandra found him minutes in, as though she had a sixth sense for finding him. She didn’t say anything, only leaned her elbows on the balcony rail in an imitation of Aedion’s position.

It was raining slightly, clouds obscuring the moon and leaving the lights of Orynth to blaze brightly against the night. They stood in the drizzle for several minutes together, silent, until Aedion broke the quiet that had settled around them.

“Yrene offered me an out.”

Lysandra didn’t respond. She turned to face him, waiting patiently for him to continue.

“An out from immortality. I want to take it.”

The next seconds stretched long between them as Lysandra opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again, as though unsure of what to say. She finally settled on, “Why?”

There was no judgment in her tone. Aedion couldn’t get a sense of whether she agreed with him or not, only a blunt curiosity.

The  _ why  _ was what he had been struggling with.

“What do I have waiting for me, centuries from now? What reasons do I have for  _ not  _ doing this?”

Lysandra’s snort was a hair short of sarcastic. “Maybe the country you fought and bled and sacrificed for. Maybe your cousin, your Queen, also blessed with immortality. Your cousin who needs to be part of this conversation.”

“But that’s just it, Lys. Aelinwouldbt understand, she has no reason not to love this  _ blessing  _ that’s been placed upon her.” 

Aedion couldn’t keep the pain from his voice. “She has her king, her fucking  _ mate,  _ who she now gets eternity with. Her country that she fought so hard for will be safe for centuries because  _ she  _ will be ruling it.

“What am I? The Queen’s General, her iron fist of judgement? I just fight Terrassen’s wars for the rest of my long, long lifetime?

“I’m a warrior, Lysandra. It’s in my blood, and I’m content in my role for now — but if I never age, if I’m always this strong, this fast, this powerful… I’ll never be anything  _ but  _ a warrior. I’ve seen men who stay in it too long, and I don’t want to be made into the monster I’ve seen them become.

“And maybe it makes me selfish, maybe it’s not fair of me to put this on your shoulders, but no part of me wants to live a day without you.”

“Aedion…” was all Lysandra said, softly. She didn’t look at him.

The moon was low in the sky when Lysandra once again spoke. “Maybe it makes  _ me  _ selfish, but I want a future with you. A real future, including growing old together; both of us sitting in wicker chairs by a fire when we’re ancient and can barely do anything except reflect on the days of our youth… or whatever it is old people  _ do.” _

That made Aedion laugh a little bit.

“But if immortality is your choice, I support you fully. I can’t be responsible for taking away lifetimes of opportunity.”

Aedion put a hand to her cheek, turning her head so she had to look at him. “The blame will never lie with you. It’s my decision.”

The finality in his tone left no room for argument.

~

“May I ask why Aelin isn’t here now?” Yrene inquired, bustling around while Aedion settled onto the long table. He tried (and failed) to ignore the leather cuffs where his wrists and ankles should be.

“Aedion thinks he can keep this a secret,” Lysandra answered for him. This made Yrene scowl fiercely at Aedion, though she didn’t argue with him. Instead, she narrated what would happen.

“Your immortality is like an ember burning inside of you. For some it flickers dully while in others, like you, it burns strong and bright. I’m essentially going to separate that ember from your physical body. It will feel like I’m removing a physical body part, so you’ll be tied down in order to keep you still.”

Lysandra’s face paled at that, but Aedion only set his jaw. Pain was nothing new to him. He and it were practically old friends.

Or so he thought.

When that gentle golden glow wrapped around something in his chest and  _ pulled, _ Aedion swore he was about to die. It was killing him and there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t even scream, couldn’t get enough air into his lungs to do so.

Finally, mercifully, he blacked out.

He was shocked to find out how much death hurt. Shouldn’t being dead feel more… dead? When familiar voices reached his ears he realized he was actually alive, blinking himself awake to see Lysandra and Yrene standing over him.

Lysandra sounded more annoyed than worried as she scolded him. “I almost had to make good on my threat, Aedion.”

Her threat?

His addled brain caught up to itself, remembered Lysandra telling him minutes before they’d gone to Yrene, “If this kills you, Aedion, I’ll find a way to bring you back—if only to kill you myself for being so stupid.”

He smiled slightly and tried to say something, but before he could, Lysandra added, “Also, Aelin found out about this stunt you pulled. Don’t ask me how.”

_ Fuck. _

Before Aedion could register the absolute  _ shit  _ he was in, the darkness claimed him once again.

  
  
  
  



End file.
